章节正文
used always to sit beside me and hold my hand till I went to sleep.
I expect she spoiled me. Mothers do sometimes, you know."
No, Anne did not know this, although she might imagine it.
She thought sadly of HER "little mother," the mother who
had thought her so "perfectly beautiful" and who had died
so long ago and was buried beside her boyish husband in
that unvisited grave far away. Anne could not remember
her mother and for this reason she almost envied Paul.
"My birthday is next week," said Paul, as they walked up the long
red hill, basking in the June sunshine, "and father wrote me that he
is sending me something that he thinks I'll like better than anything
else he could send. I believe it has come already, for Grandma
is keeping the bookcasedrawer locked and that is something new.
And when I asked her why, she just looked mysterious and said
little boys mustn't be too curious. It's very exciting to have a
birthday, isn't it? I'll be eleven. You'd never think it to look
at me, would you? Grandma says I'm very small for my age and that
it's all because I don't eat enough porridge. I do my very best,
but Grandma gives such generous platefuls. . .there's nothing mean
about Grandma, I can tell you. Ever since you and I had that talk
about praying going home from Sunday School that day, teacher. . .
when you said we ought to pray about all our difficulties. . .I've
prayed every night that God would give me enough grace to enable me
to eat every bit of my porridge in the mornings. But I've never
been able to do it yet, and whether it's because I have too little
grace or too much porridge I really can't decide. Grandma says
father was brought up on porridge, and it certainly did work
well in his case, for you ought to see the shoulders he has.
But sometimes," concluded Paul with a sigh and a meditative air
"I really think porridge will be the death of me."
Anne permitted herself a smile, since Paul was not looking at her.
All Avonlea knew that old Mrs. Irving was bringing her grandson up
in accordance with the good, old-fashioned methods of diet and morals.
"Let us hope not, dear," she said cheerfully. "How are your rock people
coming on? Does the oldest Twin still continue to behave himself?"
"He HAS to," said Paul emphatically. "He knows I won't associate
with him if he doesn't. He is really full of wickedness, I think."
"And has Nora found out about the Golden Lady yet?"
"No; but I think she suspects. I'm almost sure she watched me the
last time I went to the cave. _I_ don't mind if she finds out. . .
it is only for HER sake I don't want her to. . .so that her feelings
won't be hurt. But if she is DETERMINED to have her feelings hurt
it can't be helped."
"If I were to go to the shore some night with you do you think I
could see your rock people too?"
Paul shook his head gravely.
"No, I don't think you could see MY rock people. I'm the only
person who can see them. But you could see rock people of your
own. You're one of the kind that can. We're both that kind.
YOU know, teacher," he added, squeezing her hand chummily.
"Isn't it splendid to be that kind, teacher?"
"Splendid," Anne agreed, gray shining eyes looking down into blue
shining ones. Anne and Paul both knew
"How fair the realm
Imagination opens to the view,"
and both knew the way to that happy land. There the rose of joy
bloomed immortal by dale and stream; clouds never darkened the
sunny sky; sweet bells never jangled out of tune; and kindred
spirits abounded. The knowledge of that land's geography. . .
"east o' the sun, west o' the moon". . .is priceless lore, not to
be bought in any market place. It must be the gift of the good
fairies at birth and the years can never deface it or take it away.
It is better to possess it, living in a garret, than to be the
inhabitant of palaces without it.
The Avonlea graveyard was as yet the grass-grown solitude it had
always been. To be sure, the Improvers had an eye on it, and
Priscilla Grant had read a paper on cemeteries before the
last meeting of the Society. At some future time the Improvers
meant to have the lichened, wayward old board fence replaced by a
neat wire railing, the grass mown and the leaning monuments
straightened up.
Anne put on Matthew's grave the flowers she had brought for it, and
then went over to the little poplar shaded corner where Hester Gray slept.
Ever since the day of the spring picnic Anne had put flowers on Hester's
grave when she visited Matthew's. The evening before she had made a
pilgrimage back to the little deserted garden in the woods and brought
therefrom some of Hester's own white roses.
"I thought you would like them better than any others, dear,"
she said softly.
Anne was still sitting there when a shadow fell over the grass and
she looked up to see Mrs. Allan. They walked home together.
Mrs. Allan's face was not the face of the girlbride whom the
minister had brought to Avonlea five years before. It had lost
some of its bloom and youthful curves, and there were fine, patient
lines about eyes and mouth. A tiny grave in that very cemetery
accounted for some of them; and some new ones had come during the
recent illness, now happily over, of her little son. But Mrs. Allan's
dimples were as sweet and sudden as ever, her eyes as clear and bright
and true; and what her face lacked of girlish beauty was now more than
atoned for in added tenderness and strength.
"I suppose you are looking forward to your vacation, Anne?" she said,
as they left the graveyard.
Anne nodded.
"Yes.. . .I could roll the word as a sweet morsel under my tongue.
I think the summer is going to be lovely. For one thing, Mrs. Morgan
is coming to the Island in July and Priscilla is going to bring her up.
I feel one of my old `thrills' at the mere thought."
"I hope you'll have a good time, Anne. You've worked very hard
this past year and you have succeeded."
"Oh, I don't know. I've come so far short in so many things. I
haven't done what I meant to do when I began to teach last fall.
I haven't lived up to my ideals."
"None of us ever do," said Mrs. Allan with a sigh. "But then, Anne,
you know what Lowell says, `Not failure but low aim is crime.'
We must have ideals and try to live up to them, even if we never
quite succeed. Life would be a sorry business without them.
With them it's grand and great. Hold fast to your ideals, Anne."
"I shall try. But I have to let go most of my theories," said Anne,
laughing a little. "I had the most beautiful set of theories you ever
knew when I started out as a schoolma'am, but every one of them has
failed me at some pinch or another."
"Even the theory on corporalpunishment," teased Mrs. Allan.
But Anne flushed.
"I shall never forgive myself for whipping Anthony."
"Nonsense, dear, he deserved it. And it agreed with him. You have
had no trouble with him since and he has come to think there's
nobody like you. Your kindness won his love after the idea that a
'girl was no good' was rooted out of his stubborn mind."
"He may have deserved it, but that is not the point. If I had
calmly and deliberatelydecided to whip him because I thought it a
just punishment for him I would not feel over it as I do. But the
truth is, Mrs. Allan, that I just flew into a temper and whipped
him because of that. I wasn't thinking whether it was just or
unjust. . .even if he hadn't deserved it I'd have done it just the
same. That is what humiliates me."
"Well, we all make mistakes, dear, so just put it behind you. We
should regret our mistakes and learn from them, but never carry
them forward into the future with us. There goes Gilbert Blythe on
his wheel. . .home for his vacation too, I suppose. How are you
and he getting on with your studies?"
"Pretty well. We plan to finish the Virgil tonight. . .there are
only twenty lines to do. Then we are not going to study any more
until September."
"Do you think you will ever get to college?"
"Oh, I don't know." Anne looked dreamily afar to the opal-tinted
horizon. "Marilla's eyes will never be much better than they are now,
although we are so thankful to think that they will not get worse.
And then there are the twins. . .somehow I don't believe their uncle
will ever really send for them. Perhaps college may be around the bend
in the road, but I haven't got to the bend yet and I don't think much
about it lest I might grow discontented."
"Well, I should like to see you go to college, Anne; but if you
never do, don't be discontented about it. We make our own lives
wherever we are, after all. . .college can only help us to do it
more easily. They are broad or narrow according to what we put
into them, not what we get out. Life is rich and full here. . .
everywhere. . .if we can only learn how to open our whole hearts
to its richness and fulness."
"I think I understand what you mean," said Anne thoughtfully,
"and I know I have so much to feel thankful for. . .oh, so much. . .
my work, and Paul Irving, and the dear twins, and all my friends.
Do you know, Mrs. Allan, I'm so thankful for friendship. It
beautifies life so much."
"True friendship is a very helpfulul thing indeed," said Mrs. Allan,
"and we should have a very high ideal of it, and never sully
it by any failure in truth and sincerity. I fear the name of
friendship is often degraded to a kind of intimacy that has nothing
of real friendship in it."
"Yes. . .like Gertie Pye's and Julia Bell's. They are very intimate
and go everywhere together; but Gertie is always saying nasty things
of Julia behind her back and everybody thinks she is jealous of her
because she is always so pleased when anybody criticizes Julia.
I think it is desecration to call that friendship. If we have
friends we should look only for the best in them and give them
the best that is in us, don't you think? Then friendship would
be the most beautiful thing in the world."
"Friendship IS very beautiful," smiled Mrs. Allan, "but some day. . ."
Then she paused abruptly. In the delicate, white-browed face
beside her, with its candid eyes and mobile features, there was
still far more of the child than of the woman. Anne's heart so far
harbored only dreams of friendship and ambition, and Mrs. Allan
did not wish to brush the bloom from her sweet unconsciousness.
So she left her sentence for the future years to finish.
XVI
The Substance of Things Hoped For
"Anne," said Davy appealingly, scrambling up on the shiny,
leather-covered sofa in the Green Gables kitchen, where Anne sat,
reading a letter, "Anne, I'm AWFUL hungry. You've no idea."
"I'll get you a piece of bread and butter in a minute," said Anne
absently. Her letter evidently contained some exciting news, for
her cheeks were as pink as the roses on the big bush outside, and
her eyes were as starry as only Anne's eyes could be.
"But I ain't bread and butter hungry, " said Davy in a disgusted tone.
"I'm plum cake hungry."
"Oh," laughed Anne, laying down her letter and putting her arm
about Davy to give him a squeeze, "that's a kind of hunger that can
be endured very comfortably, Davy-boy. You know it's one of
Marilla's rules that you can't have anything but bread and butter
between meals."
"Well, gimme a piece then. . .please."
Davy had been at last taught to say "please," but he generally
tacked it on as an afterthought. He looked with approval at the
generous slice Anne presently brought to him. "You always put such
a nice lot of butter on it, Anne. Marilla spreads it pretty thin.
It slips down a lot easier when there's plenty of butter."
The slice "slipped down" with tolerable ease, judging from its
rapid disappearance. Davy slid head first off the sofa, turned a
double somersault on the rug, and then sat up and announced decidedly,
"Anne, I've made up my mind about heaven. I don't want to go there."
"Why not?" asked Anne gravely.
"Cause heaven is in Simon Fletcher's garret, and I don't like
I expect she spoiled me. Mothers do sometimes, you know."
No, Anne did not know this, although she might imagine it.
She thought sadly of HER "little mother," the mother who
had thought her so "perfectly beautiful" and who had died
so long ago and was buried beside her boyish husband in
that unvisited grave far away. Anne could not remember
her mother and for this reason she almost envied Paul.
"My birthday is next week," said Paul, as they walked up the long
red hill, basking in the June sunshine, "and father wrote me that he
is sending me something that he thinks I'll like better than anything
else he could send. I believe it has come already, for Grandma
is keeping the bookcasedrawer locked and that is something new.
And when I asked her why, she just looked mysterious and said
little boys mustn't be too curious. It's very exciting to have a
birthday, isn't it? I'll be eleven. You'd never think it to look
at me, would you? Grandma says I'm very small for my age and that
it's all because I don't eat enough porridge. I do my very best,
but Grandma gives such generous platefuls. . .there's nothing mean
about Grandma, I can tell you. Ever since you and I had that talk
about praying going home from Sunday School that day, teacher. . .
when you said we ought to pray about all our difficulties. . .I've
prayed every night that God would give me enough grace to enable me
to eat every bit of my porridge in the mornings. But I've never
been able to do it yet, and whether it's because I have too little
grace or too much porridge I really can't decide. Grandma says
father was brought up on porridge, and it certainly did work
well in his case, for you ought to see the shoulders he has.
But sometimes," concluded Paul with a sigh and a meditative air
"I really think porridge will be the death of me."
Anne permitted herself a smile, since Paul was not looking at her.
All Avonlea knew that old Mrs. Irving was bringing her grandson up
in accordance with the good, old-fashioned methods of diet and morals.
"Let us hope not, dear," she said cheerfully. "How are your rock people
coming on? Does the oldest Twin still continue to behave himself?"
"He HAS to," said Paul emphatically. "He knows I won't associate
with him if he doesn't. He is really full of wickedness, I think."
"And has Nora found out about the Golden Lady yet?"
"No; but I think she suspects. I'm almost sure she watched me the
last time I went to the cave. _I_ don't mind if she finds out. . .
it is only for HER sake I don't want her to. . .so that her feelings
won't be hurt. But if she is DETERMINED to have her feelings hurt
it can't be helped."
"If I were to go to the shore some night with you do you think I
could see your rock people too?"
Paul shook his head gravely.
"No, I don't think you could see MY rock people. I'm the only
person who can see them. But you could see rock people of your
own. You're one of the kind that can. We're both that kind.
YOU know, teacher," he added, squeezing her hand chummily.
"Isn't it splendid to be that kind, teacher?"
"Splendid," Anne agreed, gray shining eyes looking down into blue
shining ones. Anne and Paul both knew
"How fair the realm
Imagination opens to the view,"
and both knew the way to that happy land. There the rose of joy
bloomed immortal by dale and stream; clouds never darkened the
sunny sky; sweet bells never jangled out of tune; and kindred
spirits abounded. The knowledge of that land's geography. . .
"east o' the sun, west o' the moon". . .is priceless lore, not to
be bought in any market place. It must be the gift of the good
fairies at birth and the years can never deface it or take it away.
It is better to possess it, living in a garret, than to be the
inhabitant of palaces without it.
The Avonlea graveyard was as yet the grass-grown solitude it had
always been. To be sure, the Improvers had an eye on it, and
Priscilla Grant had read a paper on cemeteries before the
last meeting of the Society. At some future time the Improvers
meant to have the lichened, wayward old board fence replaced by a
neat wire railing, the grass mown and the leaning monuments
straightened up.
Anne put on Matthew's grave the flowers she had brought for it, and
then went over to the little poplar shaded corner where Hester Gray slept.
Ever since the day of the spring picnic Anne had put flowers on Hester's
grave when she visited Matthew's. The evening before she had made a
pilgrimage back to the little deserted garden in the woods and brought
therefrom some of Hester's own white roses.
"I thought you would like them better than any others, dear,"
she said softly.
Anne was still sitting there when a shadow fell over the grass and
she looked up to see Mrs. Allan. They walked home together.
Mrs. Allan's face was not the face of the girlbride whom the
minister had brought to Avonlea five years before. It had lost
some of its bloom and youthful curves, and there were fine, patient
lines about eyes and mouth. A tiny grave in that very cemetery
accounted for some of them; and some new ones had come during the
recent illness, now happily over, of her little son. But Mrs. Allan's
dimples were as sweet and sudden as ever, her eyes as clear and bright
and true; and what her face lacked of girlish beauty was now more than
atoned for in added tenderness and strength.
"I suppose you are looking forward to your vacation, Anne?" she said,
as they left the graveyard.
Anne nodded.
"Yes.. . .I could roll the word as a sweet morsel under my tongue.
I think the summer is going to be lovely. For one thing, Mrs. Morgan
is coming to the Island in July and Priscilla is going to bring her up.
I feel one of my old `thrills' at the mere thought."
"I hope you'll have a good time, Anne. You've worked very hard
this past year and you have succeeded."
"Oh, I don't know. I've come so far short in so many things. I
haven't done what I meant to do when I began to teach last fall.
I haven't lived up to my ideals."
"None of us ever do," said Mrs. Allan with a sigh. "But then, Anne,
you know what Lowell says, `Not failure but low aim is crime.'
We must have ideals and try to live up to them, even if we never
quite succeed. Life would be a sorry business without them.
With them it's grand and great. Hold fast to your ideals, Anne."
"I shall try. But I have to let go most of my theories," said Anne,
laughing a little. "I had the most beautiful set of theories you ever
knew when I started out as a schoolma'am, but every one of them has
failed me at some pinch or another."
"Even the theory on corporalpunishment," teased Mrs. Allan.
But Anne flushed.
"I shall never forgive myself for whipping Anthony."
"Nonsense, dear, he deserved it. And it agreed with him. You have
had no trouble with him since and he has come to think there's
nobody like you. Your kindness won his love after the idea that a
'girl was no good' was rooted out of his stubborn mind."
"He may have deserved it, but that is not the point. If I had
calmly and deliberatelydecided to whip him because I thought it a
just punishment for him I would not feel over it as I do. But the
truth is, Mrs. Allan, that I just flew into a temper and whipped
him because of that. I wasn't thinking whether it was just or
unjust. . .even if he hadn't deserved it I'd have done it just the
same. That is what humiliates me."
"Well, we all make mistakes, dear, so just put it behind you. We
should regret our mistakes and learn from them, but never carry
them forward into the future with us. There goes Gilbert Blythe on
his wheel. . .home for his vacation too, I suppose. How are you
and he getting on with your studies?"
"Pretty well. We plan to finish the Virgil tonight. . .there are
only twenty lines to do. Then we are not going to study any more
until September."
"Do you think you will ever get to college?"
"Oh, I don't know." Anne looked dreamily afar to the opal-tinted
horizon. "Marilla's eyes will never be much better than they are now,
although we are so thankful to think that they will not get worse.
And then there are the twins. . .somehow I don't believe their uncle
will ever really send for them. Perhaps college may be around the bend
in the road, but I haven't got to the bend yet and I don't think much
about it lest I might grow discontented."
"Well, I should like to see you go to college, Anne; but if you
never do, don't be discontented about it. We make our own lives
wherever we are, after all. . .college can only help us to do it
more easily. They are broad or narrow according to what we put
into them, not what we get out. Life is rich and full here. . .
everywhere. . .if we can only learn how to open our whole hearts
to its richness and fulness."
"I think I understand what you mean," said Anne thoughtfully,
"and I know I have so much to feel thankful for. . .oh, so much. . .
my work, and Paul Irving, and the dear twins, and all my friends.
Do you know, Mrs. Allan, I'm so thankful for friendship. It
beautifies life so much."
"True friendship is a very helpfulul thing indeed," said Mrs. Allan,
"and we should have a very high ideal of it, and never sully
it by any failure in truth and sincerity. I fear the name of
friendship is often degraded to a kind of intimacy that has nothing
of real friendship in it."
"Yes. . .like Gertie Pye's and Julia Bell's. They are very intimate
and go everywhere together; but Gertie is always saying nasty things
of Julia behind her back and everybody thinks she is jealous of her
because she is always so pleased when anybody criticizes Julia.
I think it is desecration to call that friendship. If we have
friends we should look only for the best in them and give them
the best that is in us, don't you think? Then friendship would
be the most beautiful thing in the world."
"Friendship IS very beautiful," smiled Mrs. Allan, "but some day. . ."
Then she paused abruptly. In the delicate, white-browed face
beside her, with its candid eyes and mobile features, there was
still far more of the child than of the woman. Anne's heart so far
harbored only dreams of friendship and ambition, and Mrs. Allan
did not wish to brush the bloom from her sweet unconsciousness.
So she left her sentence for the future years to finish.
XVI
The Substance of Things Hoped For
"Anne," said Davy appealingly, scrambling up on the shiny,
leather-covered sofa in the Green Gables kitchen, where Anne sat,
reading a letter, "Anne, I'm AWFUL hungry. You've no idea."
"I'll get you a piece of bread and butter in a minute," said Anne
absently. Her letter evidently contained some exciting news, for
her cheeks were as pink as the roses on the big bush outside, and
her eyes were as starry as only Anne's eyes could be.
"But I ain't bread and butter hungry, " said Davy in a disgusted tone.
"I'm plum cake hungry."
"Oh," laughed Anne, laying down her letter and putting her arm
about Davy to give him a squeeze, "that's a kind of hunger that can
be endured very comfortably, Davy-boy. You know it's one of
Marilla's rules that you can't have anything but bread and butter
between meals."
"Well, gimme a piece then. . .please."
Davy had been at last taught to say "please," but he generally
tacked it on as an afterthought. He looked with approval at the
generous slice Anne presently brought to him. "You always put such
a nice lot of butter on it, Anne. Marilla spreads it pretty thin.
It slips down a lot easier when there's plenty of butter."
The slice "slipped down" with tolerable ease, judging from its
rapid disappearance. Davy slid head first off the sofa, turned a
double somersault on the rug, and then sat up and announced decidedly,
"Anne, I've made up my mind about heaven. I don't want to go there."
"Why not?" asked Anne gravely.
"Cause heaven is in Simon Fletcher's garret, and I don't like
- sunshine [´sʌnʃain]
n.日光，阳光 (初中英语单词) - drawer [drɔ:ə] n.抽屉 (初中英语单词)
- mysterious [mi´stiəriəs] a.神秘的；难以理解的 (初中英语单词)
- generous [´dʒenərəs] a.慷慨的；丰盛的 (初中英语单词)
- enable [i´neibəl] vt.使能够；赋予权力 (初中英语单词)
- old-fashioned [´əuld´feʃənd] a.老式的；过时的 (初中英语单词)
- behave [bi´heiv] v.举止；表现；举止端正 (初中英语单词)
- immortal [i´mɔ:təl] a.不死的n.不朽的人物 (初中英语单词)
- stream [stri:m] n.河 vi.流出；飘扬 (初中英语单词)
- youthful [´ju:θfəl] a.年轻的；青年的 (初中英语单词)
- illness [´ilnis] n.生病，不健康，疾病 (初中英语单词)
- vacation [və´keiʃən, vei´keiʃən] n.假期；休庭期；腾空 (初中英语单词)
- failure [´feiljə] n.失败；衰竭；破产 (初中英语单词)
- forgive [fə´giv] vt.原谅，谅解，宽恕 (初中英语单词)
- punishment [´pʌniʃmənt] n.罚，刑罚 (初中英语单词)
- temper [´tempə] n.韧度 v.锻炼；调和 (初中英语单词)
- jealous [´dʒeləs] a.妒忌的 (初中英语单词)
- abruptly [ə´brʌptli] ad.突然地；粗鲁地 (初中英语单词)
- delicate [´delikət] a.精美的；微妙的 (初中英语单词)
- ambition [æm´biʃən] n.雄心，野心；企图 (初中英语单词)
- sentence [´sentəns] n.判决 vt.宣判；处刑 (初中英语单词)
- evidently [´evidəntli] ad.明显地 (初中英语单词)
- hunger [´hʌŋgə] n.饥饿；渴望 (初中英语单词)
- presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- grandma [´grænmɑ:] n.奶奶；外婆 (高中英语单词)
- accordance [ə´kɔ:dəns] n.一致；调和 (高中英语单词)
- cheerfully [´tʃiəfuli] ad.高兴地，愉快地 (高中英语单词)
- geography [dʒi´ɔgrəfi] n.地理(学) (高中英语单词)
- solitude [´sɔlitju:d] n.孤独；寂寞；荒凉 (高中英语单词)
- picnic [´piknik] n.郊游 vi.(去)野餐 (高中英语单词)
- tenderness [´tendənis] n.娇嫩；柔软；温柔 (高中英语单词)
- stubborn [´stʌbən] a.顽固的；坚持的 (高中英语单词)
- deliberately [di´libərətli] ad.故意地；慎重地 (高中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- thankful [´θæŋkfəl] a.感激的；欣慰的 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- squeeze [skwi:z] v.&n.压榨，榨取 (高中英语单词)
- comfortably [´kʌmfətəbli] ad.舒适地 (高中英语单词)
- approval [ə´pru:vəl] n.赞成，批准，认可 (高中英语单词)
- boyish [´bɔiiʃ] a.少年的；幼稚的 (英语四级单词)
- grandson [´grænsʌn] n.孙子；外孙子 (英语四级单词)
- garret [´gærit] n.阁楼，顶楼 (英语四级单词)
- railing [´reiliŋ] n.栏杆 (英语四级单词)
- poplar [´pɔplə] n.白杨；杨木 (英语四级单词)
- morsel [´mɔ:səl] n.佳肴 vt.少量地分配 (英语四级单词)
- corporal [´kɔ:pərəl] a.肉体的，身体的 (英语四级单词)
- sincerity [sin´seriti] n.真诚；诚意 (英语四级单词)
- intimacy [´intiməsi] n.亲密；熟悉；秘密 (英语四级单词)
- starry [´stɑ:ri] a.星光照耀的，闪亮的 (英语四级单词)
- bookcase [´buk-keis] n.书架(箱) (英语六级单词)
- emphatically [im´fætikəli] ad.强调地；断然地 (英语六级单词)
- priceless [´praisləs] a.无价的；贵重的 (英语六级单词)
- wayward [´weiwəd] a.任性的；不易控制的 (英语六级单词)
- discontented [,diskən´tentid] a.不平的；不满的 (英语六级单词)
- richness [´ritʃnis] n.富饶；富裕；华美 (英语六级单词)
- disappearance [,disə´piərəns] n.消失；失踪 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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